Together
by RobinL
Summary: Steph/Diesel Oneshot. Because there just isn't enough Diesel smut in the universe.


Title: Together

Author: Robin

Disclaimer: I wish I owned them, 'cause then I could play with Ranger all day and my husband would just have to get over it.

Rating: M for Mature. Diesel smut ahead.

The light was fading in the slice of sky that Steph could see from her bed and she knew she should drag herself from under the covers before the day came to a close. She'd spent a lazy Sunday at home, indulging in a Johnny Depp marathon and some much deserved pampering: nails, facial, exfoliation and a shave. She felt a little decadent, but her week had been long and unsatisfactory – one vehicle hit by a rocket launcher, two hot men who didn't have room in their lives to give her more than the time of day and three skips that had eluded her despite her best efforts. Their bonds were forfeit now. Vinnie had already paid out the money, unhappily, and she would probably be looking for new employment come morning.

In Stephanie's mind, she deserved a little pick-me-up. Still, she could hear her mother telling her that if she didn't put some clothes on and leave her bedroom she'd burn in Hell for the sin of slothfulness. But, what was the point? She had a large enough supply of junk food at hand to get her through a minimum of three more meals, she'd dropped a few tasty morsels in Rex's cage early this morning and the en-suite bathroom was less than five feet away. If she moved Rex's cage in here and figured out how to get the Tastykake truck to make regular deliveries, she could just lie in bed, getting so fat that when they eventually evicted her they'd have to demolish the outer wall and use a construction crane to hoist her out of here.

That plan was tempting, though growing to the size of a baby orca probably would only add to her relationship problems. Not many men wanted to get with Jabba the Hut and with her luck she'd only get halfway there by the eviction deadline. It probably would take a few months to pack on that kind of poundage. Giving up that idea, she rolled over, burying herself under her covers for late afternoon nap, when there was a sound in the hallway.

Perfect, she grumbled to herself, some psycho had come to pay her a visit. Stephanie pulled her pillow over her face without bothering to try to identify the intruder. Quietly she lay there, waiting to die, imagining the Trenton Daily Times article that would run tomorrow morning:

_Bombshell Bounty hunter found murdered in her bed. Police are compiling a list of suspects; however, current computer technology isn't sophisticated enough to count that high. There was no sign of a struggle which has confounded local authorities. Suicide by overdose of Tastykake products was ruled out by the coroner, though autopsy reports did show high levels of Butterscotch Krimpet in Ms. Plum's bloodstream. It is possible that Plum knew and trusted her attacker, or perhaps she was just too lazy to fight back. The latter theory is supported by evidence that Plum had not left her bedroom the entire day prior to her death. Police did note in their report that Plum's toe nails were a flattering shade of Iced Pink and that her bikini line was neatly groomed. _

_The Bombshell, as she was sometimes known to people who either didn't realize or didn't care that Plum detested that nickname, is survived by her astoundingly long-lived hamster, Rex, and her estranged ex-husband, Dickie "The Horse's Patoot" Orr. Plum was romantically linked to Trenton police officer, Joseph Morelli, and to local bond-enforcement agent and entrepreneur, Carlos Manoso, though reports from sources close to the deceased indicate that she was "too chicken shit to commit to either man." In the weeks leading up to Plum's demise, Detective Morelli was seen out and about with a string of attractive young women and Manoso had relocated the majority of his business to the Miami offices of his company, Rangeman, Inc. where he now spends most of his time. _

_Services will be held on Wednesday, August 6th at Stiva's funeral parlor, coincidentally the site of Plum's most famous misadventure, which Plum adamantly claimed wasn't her fault. It will be open-casket at the insistence of Plum's grandma, Edna Mazur. In lieu of flowers, send ironing to Plum's mother, Mrs. Ellen Plum, at 323 Roosevelt Street._

If the bulk of her imaginings weren't true it would be funny, she thought, cringing at the idea of any of the Trenton police force getting close enough to her to make a comment on her bikini line. Of course since she was still in her oversized sleep shirt and nothing else, it was likely that who ever came to answer the call would get an eyeful. Oh well, it was too late to worry about it now. Somehow she didn't think the killer would let her call a time out so she could put on something a little less comfortable.

Through the shroud of her fluffy pillow, she waited for a sound that would give her a hint as to who was here and why. She had an awful thought that maybe her mother had come to check on her since she'd been ignoring her calls all weekend. Frankly, Stephanie would rather be murdered in her bed, and be subjected to all the invasion of privacy that came with it, than have to endure a lecture from her mother on the perils of wasting her life.

When the silence stretched on and there was no killing blow or carping criticism, Stephanie ventured out from beneath her pillow, sitting up and pushing the mass of curly hair from her eyes. She was surprised at the sight that greeted her.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, flopping back on the bed, on top of the pillow this time.

Diesel was leaning against her door frame a lazy grin playing on his face. He ambled across the room and sat on the side of her bed. Reaching out to twist one of her brown ringlets around his finger, he said, "It's nice to see you too, Curly-Q." He looked down at the pile of Tastykake wrappers strewn on the floor and snorted a laugh. "I get the part about the Butterscotch Krimpets, but what's all this about bikinis and open-casket viewings?"

Stephanie rolled her eyes. Probably normal people didn't compose their own obituaries, out loud and in the company of strange, hunky men who dropped in unannounced. And if they did, they didn't talk about it with said men. A girl could get a reputation for being off her rocker that way.

Finally she answered, "Nothing. Just going a little stir crazy's all. I thought you were someone else."

Stephanie scooted up into a sitting position, propping herself against the headboard. She tried to pull the covers up to her chin, acutely conscious of the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra, not that she tended to stay in a bra long with Diesel around. The covers wouldn't budge from where Diesel was sitting. She yanked a few times but stopped when she realized that the motion was only making the situation worse. Diesel's eyes were fixed on her slightly swaying breasts. Crossing her arms over her chest, she nailed Diesel with a glare and asked, "Why are you in my bedroom?"

Dragging his eyes from her chest, he gave her a boyish grin that went a long way toward soothing her ire. "I was in the neighborhood and I thought I'd drop in."

Stephanie looked at Diesel. His short, dirty blonde hair was a sexy mess on his head and just invited a woman to run her fingers through it. Leaning forward, she caught herself before she did just that. Instead Stephanie just took a deep breath, inhaling the scent that was singularly Diesel… cookies, sex and warm male skin. "Normal people call first. Or knock," she said, trying to hang onto her irritation. It was hard to stay angry at such a man.

"I think we both know I'm not normal," he said, his voice low and husky. As if compelled by an outside force, Stephanie's body swayed towards Diesel's. She felt hypnotized by him; enchanted by his presence. Fighting the urge to crawl into his lap and nuzzle against his neck, she shook her head to clear the sensual fog. Hell, for all Stephanie knew, enthralling women was one of his mysterious powers.

He ran a large warm hand over one shoulder and down her arm until he reached her hand. He held it in his, gently tracing the lines of her palm with his thumb. Stephanie watched his movements, thinking he was right about the not normal thing – her skin tingled wherever he touched.

His mouth was close to her ear and his breath was a warm caress against her skin. "I'm worried about you, Sunshine. I felt a disturbance in the force. What's going on?"

"Oh, not much," she said breezily, "Unless you figure I'm uninsured, unemployed and unappealing to men." Stephanie tried to paste on a carefree smile, but her bottom lip quivered slightly, as did her voice when she said, "My life is just hunky-dory."

Diesel pulled her against his broad chest for a hug, one big hand stroking the length of her back, the other still holding her hand. She trembled in his arms, trying to keep her emotions in check. "Another car catastrophe?" he asked gently.

Stephanie nodded silently against his chest and sniffled softly. She hadn't cried all week and she didn't want to start now. "I'm being silly, I know. I mean, I've lost count of the number of cars I've destroyed. And this one was an '86 Chevy Cavalier, as far from mint condition as you can get. Especially now that it's just a burnt out carcass."

"The important thing is that you're okay, right?" His arms tightened fractionally around her and he turned his face into the mass of curls on her head.

"No, the important thing is that my '_We'll cover anyone_' car insurance company just dropped me. My world has been reduced to whatever's within walking distance."

"I understand Trenton has a very good mass transit system," Diesel said in a tone that made Stephanie smile despite herself. She could almost picture herself hauling skips into the cop shop on a city bus. "Seriously, Steph, you're a resourceful woman, you'll figure something out."

He was right she admitted to herself. She could always borrow the Buick and of course the Dealer would hook her up with a car whether she had proof of insurance or not.

"So what else is happening?" Diesel asked after Stephanie lapsed into a pensive silence.

Stephanie considered saying "Nothing," and leaving it at that, but something about this man just compelled her to share. Rolling her eyes and sighing heavily, she said, "I suck at my job, I'm lucky I haven't been killed and this week all three of my skips slipped through my fingers. I'm tired of trying to pretend that I belong in this business. The personal products factory is hiring and I'm considering a lifestyle change. Or I could lie here and grow to epic proportions – so fat that even Richard Simmons would give up hope."

"It is a crime against man to even consider ruining this body of yours, Gorgeous. Don't even joke about it." He slid one hand down to rest on her hip and squeezed gently. He continued, "And you don't suck at your job. Actually you're preternaturally good, even without special powers. Just because you got in this game late doesn't mean you can't win. Everybody has a bad week every once in awhile. But what sets apart the men from the boys is perseverance. A professional is just an amateur who didn't quit. You don't quit. That's part of what makes you good."

Tipping her head up to look into his eyes, Stephanie looked searchingly, trying to read the truth. "Do you really think that?"

He looked her straight in the eye and answered matter-of-factly, "Do you think I'd tag along with just any old bounty hunter?" He snorted softly, "Pumpkin, you don't get it. For your level of training, you are out of this world. If those two nimrods in your life helped you hone your skills a little, you'd be unstoppable—"

He broke off when he saw the shadow that crossed her face. "What?" he asked.

"The two 'nimrods' as you so affectionately call them aren't going to be much help." Seeing Diesel's confusion, Stephanie continued, "My love life is down the drain," she admitted, feeling a little awkward to be talking about this while Diesel was holding her.

Sensing her discomfort, he tried to lighten the mood, "What have those two jackasses done this time?"

Stephanie leaned back slightly, her head tilted down, her eyelashes damp. "It wasn't them. It was me. I hesitated too long and now I've lost them both."

Diesel gently tilted her chin up. In the short time Stephanie had spent with him, she'd known him to be flirty, funny and full of himself. She'd never seen him serious as he was now. "I know you've been hung up on those two guys. But have you ever considered that maybe there was a reason you couldn't choose? Maybe neither of them is what you really need."

Unable to look away from him, she held her breath. After a long pause, she nodded slowly. His logic was kind of… logical. Or maybe the hypnotic stroke of his thumb making circles in the palm of her hand made him seem that way. But actually his assessment wasn't far from the same depressing conclusion she'd come to herself. Depressing because if gorgeous, brave, honorable men like Joe and Ranger couldn't make her happy, then what chance did she have? The conclusion that she'd come to was that they weren't the problem. She was. She must be defective.

"You aren't defective," he said, picking up her unspoken thought. He kissed her forehead. "You..." He kissed her right eyelid. "Are…" He kissed her left eyelid. "Perfect." He put his lips to her mouth and kissed her gently. The kiss surprised her at first, but then she realized that she'd been imagining this moment for a very long time. As she softened in his arms, responding to him, he deepened the kiss. Exploring her mouth with his tongue, he tasted of coffee and dark spices. Stephanie sank her fingers into his unruly hair, holding his head to hers while they devoured each other.

The kiss continued as the minutes stretched on and they sank down onto the mattress. Diesel was braced on his elbows, carefully keeping his weight from crushing her, while Stephanie was undulating with growing need beneath his large, hard body. With exquisite gentleness, Diesel's hand coasted along the side of Stephanie's thigh until it reached the bottom edge of her long t-shirt. There, Diesel paused and pulled away a fraction of an inch to ask, "Do you want this as much as I do?"

Stephanie's eyes were glazed with passion and it took a few moments for his question to register. Torn between her body's aching needs and her Catholic guilty conscience, she emitted a strangled sound. If he hadn't stopped, she would have let herself get swept along and then she could blame it all on Diesel later. But he wasn't going to let her off the hook.

He was lying between her parted legs, his hard sex cradled against her core. It would be so easy to invite him in. She wanted him. She always had. But she said, "I don't do casual sex."

"Casual has no part of how I'm feeling right now," he said in a strained voice as he pressed his length into her.

She shuddered at the delicious feel of him rubbing against her. From the feel of him, she knew he was a big boy. Everywhere. But again she protested, "I'm serious." Her breathy pants didn't make her particularly convincing, nor did the fact that she had wound her legs around his so that she was holding him to her, tilting her hips to increase the stimulation.

Electing to pay more attention to the invitation in her actions than to her token protests, Diesel answered "I'm serious, too, Angel." His hand, which was still resting at the edge of her shirt, began to move higher, his rough fingertips amazingly gentle against her silky skin. He skimmed over the curve of her hip and the flat planes of her belly until his hand reached the swell of her breast. Caressing her soft skin and tight peak under the cotton of her top, he asked, "Are you planning to wait for marriage?" He lowered his head to her earlobe, his nipping kisses sending electric sensations skittering across her nerve endings.

She gasped, catching her lower lip between her teeth to hold back a moan. Her hands found their way down Diesel's broad back to the curve of his ass. "No," she said, breathless. "I was thinking more along the lines of a commitment and love.

Diesel pulled the large neck of her oversized shirt to the side so that he could nuzzle and kiss the hollow of her neck. "You loved the cop?" he asked as he squeezed her breast gently and sucked at the smooth silk of her skin.

"Sometimes," Stephanie answered absently, her head was lolling to the side to offer Diesel better access and this time she didn't bother to hold back her moan when he found a particularly sensitive spot. She moved her hands up to the small of his back, dipping her fingers beneath soft fabric at the band of his well-worn jeans to trace the upper curve of his ass.

Sliding down her body, he put his hot mouth to one of her tightly drawn crests, heating it through the cotton of her shirt, while he continued to tease and torment the other with his clever fingers. She was writhing in delight at the sensations and almost begged him not to stop when he raised his head to ask, "You loved the bounty hunter?"

Pulling the neck of her shirt down far enough to free one rosy peak, she said distractedly, "… Yeah." She slid her fingers into the silky hair at the nape of his neck and pressed his head back to her breast. The collar of the shirt bit lightly into the skin of her neck as Diesel bit at her sensitive tip. She was drifting on a tide of sensation, only vaguely concentrating on Diesel's questions, still half convinced that she'd stop this game before it went too far. The other half was convinced that this was exactly what she needed.

Tugging up on the hem of his light green t-shirt, Stephanie wanted to feel his skin and heat against her body. With one muscular arm, Diesel reached over his shoulder and grabbed a handful of his shirt, pulling it off and flinging it aside. Stephanie feasted on the sight of his wide shoulders and sculpted chest, her fingers following those same contours. Diesel grinned down at her as he braced himself on both arms above her. "Those relationships didn't exactly work out, right?"

"True," she replied, reaching up to tease one flat, dark nipple with the pad of her thumb. His eyes slipped closed for a moment as he savored her touch, then he lowered his body back down and took her lips with his.

While his mouth occupied hers, Diesel slid Stephanie's shirt up her body, only breaking away from her when he needed to pull it over her head. Her shirt joined his on the bedroom floor and Stephanie's body was fully revealed to Diesel as she hadn't been wearing anything else. He took a moment to admire the view of her rose-tipped orbs, the slight hollow of her flat abdomen and the neatly trimmed patch of curls that were grinding against the hard length in his pants. He responded with a flex of his hips that caused Stephanie to moan. "Gorgeous, maybe your rules aren't working for you. Maybe if you open your mind, and stop trying so hard, you'll actually find happiness."

Stephanie was practically panting as her fingers moved to the button of his jeans, "You're just saying that because you want me to sleep with you." She pulled open the button with fingers, clumsy with lust, and eased the zipper down, freeing his large cock. While Diesel shimmied out of his pants, Stephanie clasped his smooth length in her hand.

His answer was a groaned, "God, yes." A shudder wracked his large frame as she guided him to her wet and willing entrance. He glided into her in one slow, deep stroke. When he was buried to the hilt, he said, "But I also happen to believe it."

Slowly he withdrew and then drove in again, faster this time. Over and over he surged into her, bringing them closer to the edge of bliss, driving all doubts from Stephanie's mind. In her world, there was room now only for the pleasure of each caress, the brush of body against body, the sweet whispers from Diesel's lips against her skin and under all of this was the unrelenting pounding rhythm that was building her passion into a deafening roar that screamed through her body. His climax followed swiftly upon the heels of hers and spent, they collapsed to the bed in a pile of tangled, sweaty limbs.

Chests heaving, they remained like that until reason started to return. Diesel moved so that he was behind Stephanie, holding her back to his front, his face buried in the mass of curls. He pulled the sheet up over their rapidly cooling bodies and held her silently. It took Stephanie longer to return to her senses from wherever she'd gone. She smiled to herself, thinking she now knew the standard by which to judge if something was 'out of this world.'

Stephanie turned in his arms to face him, feeling dreamy in the dusky twilight of her bedroom. He kissed her, softly, sweetly and her eyelids felt heavy. Sleep was closing in on her, but she was reluctant to give into it.

Seeing her struggle, Diesel pressed his lips to her forehead and said, "Sleep, Baby, I'll be here when you wake-up."

Her eyes had floated shut and she was silent for so long that she might have drifted off, when she wondered, "What about tomorrow?" She didn't doubt that he would be here when she opened her eyes as he'd promised, but then, so would all the rest of her problems – bad car karma and all.

He embraced her gently and snuggled against her, "We'll deal with tomorrow when it comes. Together."

Stephanie smiled to herself. She liked that word. Together. Maybe that was what had been missing all this time. Feeling his muscles relax and his breathing deepen, she was content.

And together, they fell asleep.


End file.
